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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28194660">Now Nothing Can Take You Away From Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zubeneschamali/pseuds/zubeneschamali'>zubeneschamali</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Heaven!Fic [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Time, Heaven!Fic, M/M, Only One Bed, Post-Episode: s15e20 Carry On</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:40:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,903</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28194660</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zubeneschamali/pseuds/zubeneschamali</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-ep fic for 15x20. After everything, Sam and Dean still have some things to talk about. And Heaven is a place where anything you dream can come true.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Heaven!Fic [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2175477</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>243</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>SPN J2 Xmas Exchange</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Now Nothing Can Take You Away From Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is not a fix-it fic, because there was nothing wrong with the ep. It's a follow-up to the finale and a gift for peach-coke for spn_j2_xmas 2020, based on the prompt that consisted of my most favorite of cliches. Hope you like it! </p><p>I never thought I'd title an SPN fic with anything so cheesy as lyrics from "Heaven" by Bryan Adams, but Jensen's the one who sang it at a con after learning how 15x20 was going to go, so, yeah.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For the longest time, they just drove. They didn't talk, or at least didn't talk much, just kept sneaking glances at each other across the front seat of the car. The sun was warm on Sam's face, the music was the familiar rock of his childhood that he hadn't heard in decades, and his brother was just across the bench seat, beaming as he drove.</p><p>It was perfect.</p><p>Suddenly, Dean asked, "Hey, what's this?" He shifted his hips up to reach into his front jeans pocket, fingers digging under tight denim.</p><p>Sam automatically reached out to make sure the wheel stayed straight. His fingers had just brushed the familiar surface when he stopped himself. Baby wasn't going to go off the road. No oncoming truck was going to have to swerve if they veered across the center line. Nothing could hurt them here.</p><p>He sat back in his seat, and Dean chuckled. "Weird, isn't it?"</p><p>"Yeah." Sam shook his head. "How long did it take you to get used to it?"</p><p>"I don't know, I just got here. Ha!" Dean pulled out a flat, diamond-shaped object from his pocket, a key dangling off one end. </p><p>Sam frowned. "That's a motel room key."</p><p>"Sure is." Dean held it up and squinted at it. "Lay-Z Pines Motel." </p><p>"What do you mean, you just got here?"</p><p>Dean shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know what to tell you. Bobby said time moves differently here, and I guess he's right. I just drove around for a while, and then there you were on the bridge."</p><p>Sam filed that one away to think about later. "So what's this?" He pointed at the key. "We don't need to sleep, do we? Or eat?"</p><p>"Now that you mention it, I could really go for a burger." Dean gave him a sideways glance, one eyebrow arched. "Extra onions, of course."</p><p>Sam's instinctual response was to roll his eyes, but then hit him how <i>normal</i> this felt, how his years-long, desperate yearning for something as simple as hearing Dean make poor food choices was suddenly being fulfilled, and his eyes filled with tears instead.</p><p>"Sam?"</p><p>He reached out blindly and got a handful of Dean's jacket as he blurted out, "It's really you, right? It's not me hallucinating or being trapped in my own head or something?"</p><p>"Hey, hey, hey, no." Dean's hand firmly gripped his, and a second later, the Impala was slowing down. "Look, here's that motel. Lemme pull in."</p><p>"Okay." Sam blinked furiously to clear his eyes, and by the time his watery vision allowed him to see what was around them, they were parked in front of a pale green building surrounded by pine trees that were all slightly tilted in different directions.</p><p>"Room 10." Dean held up the key. "C'mon."</p><p>Sam followed him inside, stopping just inside the door to avoid running into Dean, who had turned around right in front of him. "What are—"</p><p>Dean had grabbed him by both shoulders and was looking him in the eye. "Sam. Please tell me you know it's me."</p><p>Sam blinked at him in confusion.</p><p>"When you showed up on that bridge, I knew it was you right away, before I even turned around. You gotta tell me it was the same for you." Dean's brows were furrowed, eyes worried as they searched Sam's.</p><p>He reached up and lightly encircled Dean's wrists with both hands. "I did. I do. Just—Dean, it was so long. I had to be without you for so long. On the bridge—yeah, I knew it was you. I <i>know</i> it. It's just gonna take me a moment to catch up."</p><p>Dean looked at him for a moment longer, the lines around his eyebrows slowly starting to ease. Finally, he said, "Yeah, all right." </p><p>"All right."</p><p>They kept standing there, Sam's fingers circling Dean's wrists, Dean's hands warm and steady on Sam's shoulders. Dean seemed to lean closer, and for a moment Sam thought he was going to pull him into another embrace.</p><p>But instead, he squeezed Sam's shoulders and let go, hands sliding through Sam's. "All right. Good."</p><p>When Dean turned around, Sam finally started to pay attention to their surroundings. He lifted his eyebrows. "Whoa."</p><p>Dean snorted. "Dude, did a lumberjack explode in here?"</p><p>The bedspread and curtains were all red-and-black plaid, and the walls were a deep pine green, except for the ribbon of peeling wallpaper that was supposed to look like wood running around the top of the walls. The kitchenette was a scratched metal sink and loudly humming refrigerator, and the glimpse Sam caught of the bathroom showed the toilet and tile matched the dark green walls. The metal lampshades all had little trees etched on them, and the lingering scent of fake air freshener from the direction of the bathroom was someone's chemical replication of the namesake tree.</p><p>He turned to Dean. "What is this place?"</p><p>"You don't remember it?"</p><p>Sam tried to think, but he hadn't been in a motel like this in decades. He wasn't even sure they still existed. Anything that had to do with Dean, it had become reflex to shove it down and not think about it. He finally said, "No, I don't."</p><p>"Yeah, me neither." Dean dropped his duffel bag on the kitchen table, and Sam could have sworn he left the Impala empty-handed. "Bobby said Jack got rid of the old Heaven, so we're not sitting in an old memory. This is new."</p><p>Sam suddenly realized his own duffel was on his shoulder, and he went to drop it on the bed farthest from the door. Then he stopped. "There's only one bed." </p><p>"Huh." Dean stared at the king-sized bed with pine needles embroidered on the pillow and then shook his head. "Well, we've made do before."</p><p>They unpacked their stuff, and Sam was amused to find it was much like what he was wearing: the t-shirts and hoodies he'd favored during their first year back on the road together. Dean found a six-pack of El Sol in the fridge, and soon they were sitting back on the bed, not trusting the rickety-looking wooden chairs, toasting each other and kicking back.</p><p>"So tell me more about your kid," Dean demanded, leaning back and crossing his legs at the ankles.</p><p>Sam had talked about him a little in the car, but he went on until he was sure Dean must be sick of it, though he maintained the smile of a proud uncle the whole time. Then Dean asked what the future was like, and Sam thought he was equal parts relieved and astounded that there weren't flying cars yet. He was definitely horrified to hear there were no gasoline cars on the road anymore and that the real Baby had been permanently garaged, no matter how much Sam told him about the melting ice caps and the belated elimination of fossil fuels.</p><p>They were three beers in and leaning towards each other, shoulders pressed together and heads tilted but not quite touching, when Sam had a sudden realization. He was <i>happy</i>. Happy like he couldn't remember in…almost ever. He smiled and let out a contented sigh.</p><p>"What is it?" Dean asked.</p><p>Sam started to reply, rolling his head to the side to see Dean more easily. His gaze caught on Dean's long eyelashes, the cinnamon freckles dotting his skin, and the lips that were still glistening from his last sip of beer.</p><p>And <i>that</i> was a feeling Sam hadn't had in a long time, either—the jolt of arousal from seeing Dean so close, or watching him cleaning his guns, or sometimes just walking in front of Sam. It was an old, familiar reflex to shove it down quick, wait for the inevitable follow-up guilt and sickness to churn in his stomach, and then shove that down too and go back to whatever he was doing before.</p><p>Except the guilt didn't come. There was no shame, no feeling of wrongness—just appreciation of Dean's beauty and awareness that it was waking up Sam's body in a way he hadn't experienced for a very long time.</p><p>Well. It wasn't really his body, technically speaking. But he was both amused and alarmed to find that apparently you <i>could</i> get a boner in Heaven.</p><p>Sam realized he still hadn't answered Dean's question, so he gave him a quick smile. "Just…this is nice." </p><p>"Yeah." Dean looked back at him, sleepy and content like Sam had rarely seen him. "Yeah, it sure is."</p><p>Sam's smile turned bigger, and then his jaw cracked open on a yawn. "Man," he said when he was done. "I don't know why I'm so tired."</p><p>"Well, you did die today," Dean replied, raising his eyebrows.</p><p>That time, the automatic reflex of an eyeroll kicked in, but Sam couldn't hide his small smile.</p><p>They set their empty beer bottles on the nightstands, argued good-naturedly about who had to get up to shut off the lights, and then crawled under the covers as if they'd been doing it every night. </p><p>Sam didn't expect to fall asleep. He didn't have a body that could get tired, after all. But some time passed, and then he was blinking awake to find he was curled up with Dean in front of him, his arm thrown over Dean's side and his legs nestled up behind Dean's.</p><p>He froze. It was like being a teenager again, huddled in some crappy motel where the heat didn’t work, desperately praying that Dean didn't notice his little brother was popping wood while shivering and trying to fall back asleep. But even then, Dean had never fit so perfectly against him, not with Sam's nose buried in the nape of Dean's neck and Sam's groin nestled right up against Dean's rear. Sam closed his eyes, resolving to enjoy it for just a second before shifting away. </p><p>Dean's low voice cut through the dark room. "Sam?"</p><p>He started to pull back, words of apology already on his lips, when Dean's hand latched onto his arm, keeping it in place. "'S okay. Just wanted to see if you were awake."</p><p>"Yeah." Sam's voice cracked, and wow, that hadn't happened in a really long time. "Sorry, I'll just—"</p><p>Dean tugged on his arm and hauled it closer, like Sam was a cloak he was draping around himself. Huffing out a breath, Sam laid his head back down on the pillow, breathing in Dean's scent with every inhalation. He tried to subtly angle his hips back, but Dean shifted, too, until they were pressed together from head to foot and everywhere in between.</p><p>There was no way that Dean didn't feel how Sam's body was reacting to him. Sam tried to keep calm, tried to remind himself that this was Heaven and bad things didn't happen here. Dean wasn't quite awake yet or something, and any minute now he would realize—</p><p>"Remember that night I came for you at school?" Dean asked, voice low and gravely.</p><p>Sam went tense. "Yeah, of course. You told me about it when you—" He stopped, closing his eyes. Even after all this time, he couldn't bring himself to say the words.</p><p>"Yeah." Dean was quiet for a moment. Then he went on, "I didn't tell you all of it, though." </p><p>Sam's eyes flew open, and he focused on the short hairs at the nape of Dean's neck, right in front of him. "What do you mean?"</p><p>Dean's hand was wrapped around Sam's forearm, and it was only then he realized they'd shed their outer layers and were only in t-shirts and jeans. "I needed you to help me find Dad. But I thought I knew why you left, and I was terrified that you still wouldn't want to see me."</p><p>The hairs on the back of Sam's neck stood up. "You thought you knew what?"</p><p>There was silence in the room. Finally, Dean let out a long sigh. "I thought you'd seen me looking at you some times. I thought you knew how I—" He cut himself off, unspoken words hanging in the air like breath on a cold day. </p><p>Now there were nerves twisting in Sam's stomach, but not the sick dread of knowing he was feeling something he shouldn't. It wasn't guilt rising up inside of him, it was hope, and his breath started coming faster. He let out a breath against Dean's neck, and he felt Dean shiver against him.</p><p>Before Sam could stop himself, he said, "I thought you had figured out why I left. That it was too hard to be around you when I—And that was why you never called me. And that when you came to see me, you were there to confront me about it. I was—" He sighed. "I was kind of relieved when you said it was about Dad."</p><p>He could feel Dean's hand trembling slightly on his arm. "All this time?" Dean asked, his voice rougher than before.</p><p>"Yeah, guess so." Sam tilted his head forward ever so slightly, so that his lips brushed against the back of Dean's neck. He didn't know what he was expecting: the feeling of wrongness to finally show up, or Dean to smack him upside the head, or having to quickly backpedal and play it off as a joke.</p><p>Instead, he got Dean turning around so fast under the curve of his arm that he almost smacked his forehead into Sam's. Sam drew his head back just in time, and then Dean was pushing him onto his back and half rolling on top of him. Sam got just one glimpse of joy and relief in wide green eyes before Dean's mouth was descending on his, and then he shut his eyes and hung on for dear life.</p><p>It wasn't like he hadn't imagined what kissing Dean would be like. It had featured in his dreams for years as a teenager, even after he left for what he thought was his own good. After Jess, when they were back on the road together, he'd gotten good at waking himself up before he could do anything embarrassing in his sleep like blurt out Dean's name.</p><p>He wondered now, lips pressing and molding and nipping against Dean's, if Dean had been doing the same thing the whole time.  </p><p>Sam slid his hands up the back of Dean's shirt, splaying out his fingers over sleep-warm skin. He loved how it made Dean squirm on top of him, how he arched his back into Sam's touch. But it wasn't enough, and he shoved at the fabric until Dean was pulling away to grab the back of his shirt with one hand and pull it over his head. Sam tugged at his own shirt until he could get it over his head and fling it onto the floor, and then his hands were free to roam all over Dean's skin. </p><p>He was halfway up Dean's back when a terrible thought occurred to him, and then he was straining upward to look over Dean's shoulder.</p><p>There was enough light coming from between the curtains that Sam could see the smooth expanse of Dean's back, unmarred by that last, horrible wound. He stroked upwards over the skin, fingers trembling as he felt its unbrokenness. He mouthed at Dean's shoulder, reassuring himself of the solid feel of his brother's body against his as his hands came to rest.</p><p>"It's okay, Sammy," Dean murmured in his ear. "I'm here."</p><p>And then Sam rolled him over onto his back, kissing him hungrily and deeply, hands roaming over Dean's chest as Dean's arms came around him. He felt Dean's strong fingers tracing down the length of his spine, pausing in the middle of his back the same way Sam's hands had faltered a moment ago.</p><p>He kissed Dean even harder then, knowing in his bones how he needed the reassurance. There was no knife scar on Sam's back, either, no line that told the trace of his first death. But he could feel the thin ridge along Dean's ribs from a chupacabra's claws the year before Sam went to Stanford. If he could see his own neck, he was pretty sure he would find the thin white line of a ligature from a ghost who'd tried to strangle him that same year, but not the bruises from the woman in white's fingers as she choked him in the front seat of the Impala.</p><p>Maybe their appearance would change from time to time up here, the way their clothing and belongings seemed to appear and disappear as needed. Maybe right now, this was where and when and who they needed to be.</p><p>It felt oddly familiar, or maybe that was just because his hands had touched nearly every part of Dean's body at one point or another, cleaning and patching and sewing. And Dean's hands on him right now were just as reassuring as when they were fixing him up. Even when Dean started unbuttoning Sam's jeans, it was automatic for Sam to lift his hips up and give Dean access, because he must need help if Dean was—</p><p><i>Oh.</i> Sam gave a long shudder at the feel of Dean's fingers stroking up the sides of his cock. <i>That</i> was definitely new, and the low chuckle that Dean was giving was worth the slight embarrassment for the glorious heat that was lighting Sam up from the inside.</p><p>He fumbled with Dean's jeans, and when Dean kicked them off, it was a struggle not to come right there. The light from between the curtains laid a stripe up the perfect curves of Dean's ass and back as he maneuvered his way on top of Sam, and Sam drank in the sight.</p><p>When Dean reached between his legs, Sam spread them wider. There was lube in the nightstand, and soon Dean's strong, capable fingers were gently working him open. Sam's hips were already undulating as he sought out friction, but Dean kept his hips high enough that they weren't touching anywhere except their mouths and where his fingers were stretching Sam. Sam whimpered in protest, reaching for Dean's cock to bring them together.</p><p>Dean slapped his hand away. "Wanna be inside you," he murmured, crooking both fingers inside of Sam. "Don't want it to be over too fast."</p><p>Sam bit his lip as a wave of pure heat washed over him. "Will be if you keep that up," he retorted. Dean flashed the taunting grin of an older brother, and Sam bucked his hips up. "Come on already!"</p><p>He was afraid for a moment that Dean was going to draw it out, but he was apparently getting impatient, too. A moment later, Dean lined himself up, and then he was pushing in, eyes searching Sam's as if for any sign of discomfort. </p><p>Sam planted his feet on the bed and offered himself up, arching to meet Dean as willingly as he'd ever done anything in his life. It was a lot, almost too much, but he kept his gaze locked onto Dean's, taking in the wonder and amazement that he was sure was reflected on his own face. As complete and as grateful as he'd felt to hold Dean on the bridge, this was a thousand times more than that. </p><p>When Dean started to move, Sam reached back to brace himself against the headboard. For all that this replication of a crappy motel room got the details right, it thankfully skipped the rickety bed frame, because Dean was thrusting so deep and hard that it would have wrecked a lesser bed. Sam braced himself as best as he could and pushed back, meeting Dean thrust for thrust, letting go of everything but the way their bodies were moving in tandem and the way Dean's gaze was locked on his.</p><p>He didn't know if it took minutes or hours—time moved differently here, after all. Every moment of it was pleasure, not just the desire rising higher and higher inside of him, but being joined with Dean, feeling him inside of his body and under his skin and so close to him that Sam could never, never imagine letting him go.</p><p><i>You don't have to</i>, he realized, and that was when he came, arching his back with a cry. Dean shuddered over him, and then he was throbbing inside of Sam, hips snapping with one final thrust as he groaned low in his throat.</p><p>Sam stroked down the sweat-lined planes of Dean's back, feeling warm skin and pulsing life beneath his fingertips. He closed his eyes, breathing in Dean's scent and smiling when Dean nuzzled at his neck before sucking a mark into the skin. He whined a little when Dean pulled out and flopped down next to him, then tried to make up for it by draping himself over Dean's side, head on his chest, one ear over the slowly-calming thunder of his heartbeat.</p><p>They laid there in silence, Dean's hand tracing patterns over Sam's back as he listed to the quiet reassurance of Dean's heart. Then something occurred to Sam, and he asked, "Hey, why is your heart beating?" </p><p>"Same reason we have bodies, I guess." Dean shrugged beneath him. "Which means fuck if I know."</p><p>"Something else to ask Jack if we see him."</p><p>"You gonna make a list?"</p><p>Sam started to say that he already had, but then he stopped. After a moment, he said, "I'm not sure I want to question anything."</p><p>"Sam, it's not like he's gonna take any of this away. Jack isn't Chuck."</p><p>"No, it's not that." He looked up at Dean, taking in his long lashes, his kiss-swollen mouth, the freckles he was looking forward to putting his mouth on, as he spoke the thoughts he was just starting to believe. "It's more like I don't have to. So much of our lives was about trying to understand who was after us or what was going on or how we were being manipulated and why. That's over. I can just—rest."</p><p>Dean gave him a lazy smile, fingers still lightly touching Sam's back. "So that gigantic brain of yours is finally going to calm down."</p><p>"I mean, maybe. For a little while. There must be so many people here to talk to, so many famous scientists and writers and artists. Imagine hearing from them what they were thinking when they made their discoveries or created their works." Sam's mind was suddenly spinning with the possibilities.</p><p>"Easy, tiger." Dean's grin turned wicked. "Why don't you do a little of that resting right now, and then we can go for round two, hmm?"</p><p>Sam smirked back at him. "What makes you think I need a rest, <i>older</i> brother?"</p><p>"Oh, it's so on," Dean retorted as he flipped Sam over onto his back.</p><p>Or at least he tried to. Sam fought back gleefully, and they wrestled in the sheets until they were sweaty and laughing, and then again until they were sweaty and writhing. </p><p>In the morning, they would get on the road again, or maybe they would just stay here. Sam felt like he needed a lifetime with Dean, just like this, to make up for all that they'd missed or been afraid to reach out for. Maybe after that, they'd travel this new world and see what there was to see.</p><p>For now, all they needed was each other.</p>
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